


Unconventional

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Abuse of the word 'senpai', Anal Fingering, Grinding, Hand Jobs, I'm Sorry, M/M, No One Tops, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Senpai-Kouhai Relationship, Tent Sex, Training Camp, bad timing, dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin discovers Momotarou has strange ways of cheering people up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write MomoRin. But then this happened. Apologies in advance.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s a simple question, yet loaded and heavy at the same time. It’s also not one Rin isn’t sure he even has an answer for. His mind’s too clouded, his thoughts scattered on everything—his pending graduation, Sousuke, Haru, Australia, swimming…

Everything but this dumb training camp.

Rin sighs, hefting his overnight bag into the van’s trunk and stuffing it between all the others already inside. “I told you I’m _fine_ , Sousuke. Are you?” he counters, looking pointedly at the taller swimmer’s shoulder where the bold outline of a brace peeks out through the fabric of his shirt.

“I won’t swim or overwork myself, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sousuke drawls.

It’s not what Rin’s thinking, not exactly, but he doesn’t prod further. “Whatever you say,” says Rin, and he leaves it at that. The last thing he wants is to get into yet another argument with him. He’s had enough of those for one summer.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Sousuke murmurs as their underclassmen start gathering around the van.

“I know.”

Technically, he does. It’s a tradition in Samezuka for the previous year’s captain to return for one last hurrah by taking any volunteers on a grueling training camp at the end of the summer. As the current captain, Rin’s obligated. From what he can recall, last year’s camp was hell, but he’s been so distracted and tired lately, he’d simply forgotten about it. Who knows, maybe it’ll do him some good this time around.

Out the corner of his eye, Rin spots two redheads—one towering over the other as they engage in headlocks and conversation too loud for this morning hour. The Mikoshiba brothers.

As last year’s captain, Seijuurou Mikoshiba has the honor of hosting the camp this year, which means on top of it being insane and beyond mere human comprehension, over half of the current team will be too terrified to attend. And after the volunteers line up in the parking lot for a headcount, Rin’s theory proves right: in total, only eight out of the twenty or so members of the team are brave enough to tough it out.

Rin sighs, the beginnings of a migraine forming right at his temple. This weekend’s either going to breeze by or it’s going to be hell on earth. And as the two brothers in question shout and compete over who gets to sit shotgun, he thinks it might be Column B.

Once the nine of them are packed into the van and the last-minute speeches and checkups are complete to the club advisor’s standards, they take off. Rin stares out the window, his chin on his palm, scattered thoughts once again lingering on everything from the passing coastline scenery to his recent stint in Australia with Haru.

Everything— _except_ the source of the heavy stare that stays on him throughout the entire trip.

 

\--

 

As it turns out, the training camp is on the same island where Samezuka and Iwatobi held their own training camps last year. Only there are no luxury lodge suites and modern athletic facilities for them this time around—just the open sea and burning sand. It’s all a part of Seijuurou’s plan to help them improve by roughing it out. Or so he claims.

It’s noon and blazing hot when they finish setting up their humble camp on the beach. Afterwards, Seijuurou lives up to his infamous reputation and immediately starts them on their 5K sand runs.

As expected, the Mikoshiba brothers lead the way, fueled by nothing more than whatever ridiculous sibling competition they’ve created for themselves. Rin wants nothing to do with it, so he resolutely remains behind them and ahead of the second years cursing the day they agreed to come to this camp.

True to his word, Sousuke doesn’t overwork himself. He keeps a steady and rather slow stride at the back of the group alongside Aiichirou Nitori. It’s pretty obvious Sousuke’s there to make sure the smaller boy doesn’t fall behind, though the determined look in Ai’s eyes and the even pace—tempered from his experience as a 400m specialist—makes the gesture seem unnecessary.

Rin smiles a little, looking ahead at nothing in particular. He’s got nothing to worry about.

“Rin-senpai?”

Some time since the start of their second lap, Momotarou’s fallen into a jog beside him. Rin’s heard of highway hypnosis but this is ridiculous—wasn’t Momo racing with his brother at the head of the pack?

“What is it, Momo?” he grunts.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin says, sounding rather annoyed and prickish even if he doesn’t mean to. He’s just tired of being asked that. Of course everything is okay.

His mood soured, Rin speeds up to get away from Momo, only for Momo to easily catch up with him; and when Rin slows down, so does he. Whether he wants it or not, Rin’s earned himself a new running partner.

Damn that legendary Mikoshiba stamina.

Feeling Momo’s presence at his elbow again, Rin growls, almost considers taking off into a full-blown sprint and letting Momo learn what it truly means to run with Rin Matsuoka. Distracted or not, there’s a reason Rin’s the current Samezuka captain.

Momo falls before that can happen, however.

It's not clear if he was just being his usual klutzy self or if a wayward root is to blame. All Rin knows is that one moment, Momo’s beside him and the next, he’s no longer there. He doesn’t see him go down and he’s glad for it—the sickening crunch of the impact is enough to ensure him he’ll be skipping out on dinner later on.

When the dust clears, and Momo’s a pathetic heap on the sand and clutching his ankle, Rin calls for an emergency time-out and brings the group’s run to a grinding halt.

Seijuurou’s at his little brother’s side in an instant, his face unusually hard and grim. “What the hell happened here?”

“I just—I was running,” with a small hiss, Momo shies his foot away from his brother’s rough touch, “and I tripped…”

“Momo-kun, are you okay?” Ai’s beside him, out of breath with worry. His bedside manner is a lot more careful than Seijuurou’s, at least. “It’s not broken, is it?”

Momo smiles weakly through his pain, appearing more humiliated than anything else. “N-No, just swollen, I think?”

“A sprain,” Sousuke concludes.

That sounds about right to Rin, although he hadn’t been paying attention well enough to confirm or deny that. He wonders if he could have even prevented this if he wasn’t so busy trying to push Momo away in the first place. All the other boy wanted was his company and all he has to show for it is a busted ankle and a bunch of his peers standing over him like observers at a zoo. Rin tongues his mouth, feeling like an asshole for letting himself get fogged up enough to let this happen.

Seijuurou stands, arms akimbo as he looks down the stretch of the beach where they ran, then back down at his little brother again. “Can you still run, Momotarou?”

A squawk of protest fills in the back of Rin’s throat. He can’t be serious?

Momo latches onto Ai’s skinny arm and helps himself up—or tries to. When that doesn’t work, he makes grabby hands towards Sousuke’s much bigger one, but still no go. “Just give me a minute,” he grunts. “Yamazaki-senpai, give me a hand—”

Panicked and with a quick, furtive glance toward Sousuke and his wounded shoulder, Rin steps forward. “No!” When all eyes on turn on him, he coughs and says, much more calmly, “I mean—he shouldn’t try running on it. There’s a first-aid station in the lodge by the complex…”

Ai bites his lip then nods with firm agreement. “Buchou’s right. Momo-kun might be fine now, but with more swimming and running, he might aggravate his injury.”

And that, right there, is why Rin picked Ai as his successor.

“I’ll take him,” Rin volunteers. Aside from being one of only three people physically capable of it, it’s his responsibility. And even if it wasn’t, his heart and mind aren’t in the camp’s activities right now anyway.

This arrangement works well with the team because no one objects. No one except Sousuke, who stares long and hard as Rin passes him by with Momo on his back, piggyback-style.

“I know what that look means, Sousuke,” Rin tells him. “Don’t worry.”

“Give me a reason not to, and I won’t.”

Rin offers his best friend a little grin, all pointy teeth and reassurance. “It’s just Momo.”

“Mm. That’s the problem.”

Whatever.

 

\--

 

They’re halfway to the lodge and crossing over a hill on a foliage ramp when it occurs to Rin that the journey’s been quiet. Odd, considering he’s got Momotarou perched on his back. The silence between them is so deafening and thick, it’s unsettling.

Poor kid’s probably tearing up inside. Rather than dwell on it, Rin takes a page out of Makoto’s book and tries for a little encouragement—“You’ll be fine, Momo. Once the staff here checks you out, you’ll be good as new.”

—then cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. What even possessed him to say such a painfully cheesy thing that even Makoto would snort at, he’ll never know. He just discovered the secret to shutting a Mikoshiba up; he should be _thrilled_ , damn it, not worried.

Still, scolding the little squirt for not being careful when he’s in such obvious pain seems too harsh, even for him. Although _little_ might be pushing it; as he moves further along with Momo on his back, he realizes the redhead’s anything but. Shorter stature or not, Momo’s a lot heavier than he looks.

Must be from all that muscle he’s put on lately.

Something cold and slithery sinks in Rin’s gut. Surely something's wrong if he’s reduced to checking _Momotarou Mikoshiba out._

Then again…

“I’m okay,” Momo mumbles into his shirt.

Sousuke probably said the same thing when his shoulder first started to twitch.

Trying not to think of _that_ , Rin keeps his tone casual, maybe even dismissive, and above all, _not_ worried. “Yeah, well, we’ll know for sure once you get some x-rays and—”

“I didn’t fall.”

Rin stops walking. “What?”

“I said I didn’t fall,” Momo admits, “I threw myself to the ground when no one was looking and then made up the story about the ankle…”

The little _shit_.

Without a second thought, Rin promptly drops Momo on his ass.

“Oww! Hey!”

Rin glowers down at him, teeth bared in a snarl, no doubt looking far bigger and more intimidating than he normally does. “I hope _that_ hurt.”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of me, senpai!” Momo whines, scrambling to his feet. While not visibly injured, there is an unmistakable grimace on his face when he puts too much of his weight on one ankle.

God, he can’t believe he fell for this. Rin sucks his teeth. “I _am_ taking care of you.”

Momo lashes out and clings tight onto Rin’s arm. “Wait—wait a minute, senpai!”

“You really wanna get hurt?” As angry as he was to know that Momo, of all people, tricked him, Rin has no real intentions of hurting him. All he wants is to regain that distance between them—the space filled with respect and fear that existed there before he thought yet another teammate got injured on his watch. If it means acting like he’ll kick his ass, then so be it.

Momo doesn’t buy it, his flat-stare emoting as much until Rin plucks his finger against his forehead.

“Look,” Rin sighs, “I’m not gonna tell your brother, but if he finds out about this, you’re on your own.”

“On my own?” Momo tilts his head, eyes narrowing in challenge. “What, you mean like you?”

Oh, if looks could kill, Momo would be a dead right about now. “What did you just say?”

Momo hasn’t released his arm. His touch is a lot softer than the bruising tightness Rin thought it would be. “Rin-senpai, you seem kinda—I don’t know, lonely lately? And down, like there’s something wrong. And that makes me worried. And since you’re my captain, I want to make everything better for you.”

Once again, that cold feeling takes root in the pit of his stomach. Something about the vulnerable softness in Momo’s voice and in his fidgeting suggests maybe there’s something _more_ to what he’s saying. Like there’s a specific way he intends to make things better for him.

Trying not to think on that too much, Rin looks aside and says, “It’s nothing. Just stress.”

Momo wrinkles his nose. The edge of it is peeling slightly from a sunburn, exposing a small dust of freckles. Sometimes, he looks so youthful, it’s shocking. “Stress? What’s that?”

Sometimes, he acts so youthful, too. Rin just stares at him, half out of disbelief, half out of the need to compose himself before saying something he might regret. “Nothing—just, forget it, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“But I always worry about you, senpai,” Momo insists. Then, a moment later, his voice goes low and deep when he adds, “Is it ‘cause I’m younger and shorter than you?”

Although he’s only a first year going onto his second, Momo’s not that much shorter than Rin. And if genetics and family resemblance are anything to go by, he’ll probably shoot up like a weed to his brother’s height or even taller, and those curious boys coming into Samezuka next year are going to be in serious trouble.

Licking his lips, Rin shakes that particular image from his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Momo. Your height has nothing—”

Momo runs his thumb lightly over the thin web of flesh between Rin’s thumb and index finger, sending an unexpected thrill straight up Rin’s spine.

Now there’s no doubt in his mind about what Momo’s offering.

“—to do with anything.”

Momo’s standing real close to him now—so close, Rin can feel his breath, warm and a little damp against his skin. He can see the lighter freckles on his cheeks; can see the little off-color flecks in his bright eyes, the way the pupils are just the slightest bit dilated. With curiosity and something else he dares not to think about.

Rin inhales; it’s like he can feel Momo’s heart beating through where their chests are almost pressed together, like he can hear the quickened rhythm of it in his own ears. The air is catching in his throat, leaving him a little breathless and dizzy with the possibility of how easy it would be to angle his head just slightly, maybe rub their noses together before leaning that much farther in—

It’s so easy, but he doesn’t. He moves back just as Momo leans forward. It doesn’t stop there, so Rin swallows, presses his hand against the center of Momo’s chest and pushes him back. Distance between them is a matter of necessity now. Otherwise…

But Momo resists, spreads his arms as if to show he’s harmless, making his shirt pull against his developing musculature. “Tell me why not. Give me a good reason.”

Aside from the shitstorm that would inevitably await them both if anyone were to find out, there isn’t much of a reason, really. And if Rin has to be completely honest with himself, he’s so far gone with stress and frustrations and _everything_ , he wouldn’t mind taking Momo up on his offer just to let off some steam and tension.

God, he can’t believe he’s even considering this. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Every part of this is a bad idea, from start to finish.

Momo swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing obscenely. “Rin-senpai,” his voice is an inciting soft little murmur against his collarbone. It’s inciting enough to help Rin forget, even for just a moment, how dangerous this can turn out to be.

Rin straightens his body and goes as rigid as possible, forcing Momo to bear his own weight, ankle be damned. “Momo, sometimes there isn’t a reason. We _can’t_. Not here. Maybe in a few years. Not—”

Momo moves, and Rin realizes, jarringly, that he’s turned on. Not just a little, either—he’s rock-hard, aching against the strained fabric of his track pants. He tries to ease further away from the shorter boy, his movements lagged by the idea that Momo feeling his erection is actually kind of hot.

Another shift, and Momo’s weight settles against Rin once more, his thigh between Rin’s legs, and it’s all Rin can do to not grind on him.

Momo’s head falls forward so they’re cheek to cheek, searing Rin with just the heat of his skin. He nuzzles him and it’s not in the playful, happy way between them as teammates celebrating a victory or job well-done. It’s soft and affectionate. Intimate.

Dangerous.

And his leg is still pressed up against Rin’s groin. Shit.

“Momo.” Rin tries for the warning growl he tends to use around him but it comes out sounding as a husky groan, like he’s pleading for more contact instead of the opposite.

Emboldened by Rin’s discomfort, perhaps, Momo inches forward, rubbing him even more. “Rin-senpai, you’re ha—”

Rin draws a sharp breath. “It’s _nothing_ ,” he asserts, “it just happens sometimes.”

“You’re lying again, senpai.”

“I am _not_. Your leg—”

Momo’s leg is the last thing on Rin’s mind when the shorter boy advances on him, forcing Rin to back up until his spine bumps into the trunk of a tree with enough force to shake it. The pain is minor, barely registering in his brain as Momo’s fever-hot mouth claims his a moment later, muffling any potential protests.

Despite Momo's prior gestures and touches, the kiss is abrupt and hard—so hard their noses bump and their teeth clack together. Even so, Momo makes a pleased, eager noise into his mouth. Everything about him is eager, actually, but in a naive way—he’s painfully inexperienced, his fingers fumbling around Rin’s body, erratic and without aim, like he can’t focus on that and kissing at the same time. He settles on inching a hand up Rin's shirt and Rin can't help but feel his own stomach muscles twitch under those warm hands.

Momo's knee is _still_ between his legs and this time, he grinds against him on purpose, firm, and in long rough circles, as if he were inside him.

The sudden rush of sensation seems to jolt Rin out of the moment. Rin jerks away, the momentum of it making him bang into the tree again. “Momo—”

And then someone’s shouting out in the distance, the noise piercing the balmy, hazy air between them and bringing reality home. It’s Seijuurou and the others coming around for another lap. Where they are, the likelihood of them getting caught is, at best, _possible_.

It’s Momo that yanks away first. “I’ll see you later, senpai.”

Before Rin can retort, Momo takes off in a sprint towards the lodge, leaving him slumped against the tree, confused and starved for air.

What the _fuck_ was that?

 

\--

 

Rin never finds out.

It’s been hours since the incident on the beach ramp and he still can’t come up with anything resembling an answer.

As expected, Momo’s avoided him ever since. He played up his injury rather well—he limped around, stayed in his tent, and allowed only Nitori to tend to him like a mother duck would her duckling. He didn’t even join them for their protein-packed barbecue dinner.

Better that Rin didn’t see him. Out of sight and out of mind, and all that. It's quiet and everyone's packed into their tents for the night because they have a busy day tomorrow, and the last thing Rin needs is to rack his brain for answers that don't exist.

He sighs and turns over in his sleeping bag, catching a glimpse of Sousuke in the corner of their dark and small tent. He's huddled over and pulling on his sneakers. “Ai wants to run some more laps,” he says without preamble.

Rin smirks, propping his chin onto his palm. “Not gonna invite me along?”

Sousuke doesn’t take the bait—at least, not like Rin wants him to. Without missing a beat, he tugs on his hoodie and mutters, “I don't think that's a good idea. We need to keep Ai safe and _unharmed_.”

Rin chucks the nearest pillow at him as he leaves. “Very funny!”

Some time later, there’s shuffling around outside and the flap to the tent opens again. Rin doesn’t bother turning towards it, and snorts a laugh. “What’s the matter? Did you get lost?”

Instead of Sousuke’s size 32 sneaker bumping into his butt, Rin gets a deceptively heavy redhead crawling onto him.

Momo. All things considered, Rin _should_ have expected him.

Momo’s fast and in an instant, he’s on Rin. Really on him, after somehow worming his way into Rin’s sleeping bag, his knee nestled right between his thighs, just like before.

With hands and elbows and everything at his disposal, Rin tries to fight him off. He even goes for one of his usual headlocks but Momo's too quick; he avoids him, his movements smoother than silk, throwing Rin off guard and off balance. Where was this suave and confident Momo before? Nevermind that—where the hell did he even come from?

After enduring an embarrassing minute of this, Rin flops onto his back with one victorious Mikoshiba looming over him on all fours.

Momo grins, the sharp points of his canines reflecting what little light there is around them. Rin wonders how they’d feel on his throat. And just like that, he’s hard. Fuck.

Momo snickers, his body, smooth and hot all over, shakes and grinds a little against Rin’s as he does so. “Missed me?”

“Shut up,” Rin mumbles, trying to shift his hips away. That only seems to make things worse.

It’s dark but Momo’s hands seem to have no problem finding his drawstrings. In a fit of mixed panic and excitement, Rin clamps his hands over Momo's wrists, stopping him.

“Wait, _wait_. What—what about Gou?” Rin realizes he should be asking him _what in the ever-living fuck are you doing_ but it’s kind of superfluous at this point.

“What about her? I told you, I want _you_ to feel better, senpai—”

“Are you fucking serious? Here? _Now_?”

Momo tilts his head like a well-meaning but confused pup. “Um, yeah?”

Rin pauses, a trail of awkwardness creeping up his nape, which he’s only too quick to notice. Why is he even considering it? This is Momo. Not Sousuke, or Seijuurou, or even Haru.

But Momo’s here and willing. And because Rin’s been thinking about their time on the beach nonstop, and because of some sick, sad yearning for more of the same, he caves in. Gulping down his uncertainty, Rin nods and releases Momo's wrists.

Bereft of Rin’s touch, Momo whines and asks, “So, uh, can I?”

And Rin blearily comprehends what he means by that when he feels Momo's fussy tugging on the hem of his tank top. The younger redhead's trying to sneak his other hand up there, no doubt wanting to grope his chest. Honestly, this obsession with his cleavage has got to stop.

Just not tonight.

Noting the hungry look in Momo’s glowy, catlike eyes, Rin obliges, but insists on removing his shirt himself. He makes a spectacle of it, smirking as he extends his arms up over his head and puffs his chest out. Despite the dim lighting, it’s clear that Rin’s efforts aren’t in vain: Momo’s squirming around and sitting with his thighs sprawled apart, an obvious bulge in their center.

“Now can I?” he pleads, bouncing in place.

Rin resists rolling his eyes and saying _oh well, if you must_ , and pulls Momo in.

Once he’s allowed to, Momo drags his thumb across Rin’s nipple over and over again until it peaks, then he leans and rubs his hot, damp mouth over it. Not quite the subtle approach but Rin chalks that up to him being a Mikoshiba. They’re never subtle about anything.

Momo nuzzles between his pecs and groans in appreciation as he works his way down, dragging his mouth and teeth over the dips and slopes of Rin’s abs. Then he’s pulling the boxers just far down enough to expose his dick and…

It’s only through sheer luck that Rin doesn't wake the team when Momo swivels his tongue over his glans.

He swallows down any sounds of approval he feels coming on and tries to shy away from his touch, but Momo is merciless. He touches him all over, tickling him, smoothing precum over the head, dipping down to massage his balls…

Fuck, where the hell did he learn this?

Try as he might, Rin can’t guarantee he can remain quiet like this.

"Momo," he shudders.

"Mm?"

"Hang on, I gotta—wait," of course, Momo will take _that_ precise moment to lick him again, " _fuck_. Stop. _Stop_ for just a sec..."

Momo does as told and blinks up at him. “Why’d—?”

“Trust me,” Rin pants, his brain muzzy but somehow still functioning. As long as he ignores the few dribbles of saliva oozing out the corner of Momo's mouth, anyway. “You’ll thank me later.”

There’s so much more he wants to do with him and _to_ him. Coming so soon will just spoil it all. Sex is nice—wonderful, even, but it’s also the only thing Rin hates coming first in.

“Did you want to do something else, senpai?” There's a suggestive lilt in Momo's voice when he says _something else_.

Rin squints, suspicious. Curious if there are other secret tricks up Momo’s sleeve. "Like what?"

“I dunno. Something with this, maybe?” From his pocket Momo procures a small bottle. What the label says, who even knows, but Rin has an idea.

He snorts in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you fucking _planned_ this from the jump?”

It’s too dark to tell, but he suspects Momo’s blushing when he flails his hands and splutters, “N-No! Of course not!”

“Oh?” Rin rolls his eyes. “So you just _happened_ to pack lube for a training camp, is that it?”

“I got it from Minami- and Uozumi-senpai’s tent,” Momo blurts, struggling with the stubborn bottle cap.

Minami and Uozumi, huh. Rin isn’t surprised by this bit of news—rumors about those two have been circulating for months. But really? They couldn’t hold it in for a day or two?

Then again, Rin isn’t in much of a position to say anything about restraint.

“Did you borrow anything else?” he asks, his voice soft and implying, because asking Momo outright for anything, even condoms, is unbearable.

As expected, Momo doesn't have the slightest clue what he means. “No?” There’s that confused pup look again. “Was I supposed to?”

“Just give me that,” Rin snaps, taking the bottle away from Momo and gesturing for him to rise before him.

There’s not enough light to see Momo’s expression clearly, but his eyes are open and unmistakable, the weight of his golden stare heavy on Rin as he climbs up to his knees. “Like this, senpai?”

 _Senpai_. Maybe it’s just the influence of the moment, but never before has that word sounded so damn lewd. “Yeah.” Rin tugs on the elastic band of the other boy’s shorts and the briefs beneath them. “Take these off.”

And Momo obeys, shucking his shorts off in one smooth movement.

Rin slides his hand around the blade of Momo’s hips then settles with his fingers splayed out at the dip in his back. Using gentle pressure, he urges him face-down onto one of the pillows with his ass in the air.

Too bad it’s so dim in the tent. Otherwise, Rin might appreciate the visual more. He’s happy to use his mind's eye and sense of touch in the meantime. Shamelessly, he rubs his fingers over Momo’s ass with before squeezing it with approval.

Oh. He is _definitely_ a Mikoshiba.

Momo shivers with a loud, approving sigh. Rin squeezes him again, a small smirk touching his lips when Momo wiggles his hips for more. “You like that,” he observes.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Bet you wish it was something else.”

Momo whines, nods his head.

“Or, do you want more than that?”

Momo nods again, groaning this time, unable to keep the urgency out of his voice. His hand fists in the sleeping bag.

As tempting as it is to tease Momo in revenge for all the ups and downs he’s put him through today, they don’t have a lot of time tonight. So, Rin opts for something different; he moves behind Momo and gathers some of that slick lotion onto his fingers.

One hand drops between Momo’s thighs, his thumb pressing into the crease of his ass and tracing a slow circle over the rim of his hole. Watching Momo’s face for signs of discomfort, he switches it up and nudges a thicker, longer finger inside. Slow and careful.

Turns out, Momo’s as noisy in bed as he is everywhere else. He cries out softly and arches against Rin's hand, gasping and aching with need.

“Ssh,” Rin hisses, pressing a kiss between Momo's shoulderblades to calm his shivering.

The calming gesture not withstanding, Rin doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking Momo with his finger, every push frustrating in its slowness, knuckles brushing up against Momo's balls without much friction. Rin leans down to taunt him, breath hot and damp near Momo's ear. "Like that?"

It's not enough to get off of, by far, but he takes his touch away before Momo can respond. Like clockwork, Momo groans—confused at first, then piteous—at the loss.

Rin smiles in a self-gratified kind of amusement. “Now you know how it feels.”

Then, without warning, he thrust his fingers into him and went to work driving Momo, and himself, crazy. Not fast or slow, just enough so that they both can feel it. Momo’s insides are so hot and so tight, Rin almost wants to reach down and touch _himself_ for a little bit of relief. At this point, it won’t take much to make him come. It’s almost painful how hard he is.

But first things first.

He slips his other hand down there, gifting Momo’s neglected dick with a strong, deliberate squeeze.

Momo almost falls apart at being worked on both ends. His thighs tremble something fierce as he ruts back and forth into Rin’s pressure, fast and fervent clawing into whatever he can grab. “ _Senpai_ —just like that,” he groans.

Had someone told Rin that the highlight of his training camp would be the moment he looks down to see Momotarou Mikoshiba fucking his finger—no, his _fingers_ , now that he thinks about it—he wouldn’t believe them. But now, as he watches Momo do just that while pulling in long shuddering breaths that shake his body like nothing Rin's ever seen on him before, Rin can’t think of many things that can top this.

One last push-and-pull, and Momo’s coming with a guttural sound of release, writhing as Rin continues until his body is relaxing back into the sleeping bag.

And though Rin expected it, it’s still a bit of a shock when Momo reaches out a few moments later and touches him. _Really_ touches him—his fingers tight and imposing over his cock. Something in his gut throbs with a hopeful ache and he can’t help moaning as Momo starts to pump him.

Experimental. There’s no other way to describe Momo’s touch. It isn’t as intense or confident as before, no doubt a consequence of what Rin just did to him, but it’s enough. He just needs more time, Rin thinks. And more—

“Have any of you seen Momo-kun?”

That’s Ai’s voice, out of breath and so close to the tent that Rin’s almost convinced he's inside. Momo’s hand stops where it is but he doesn’t let go and Rin has to exert some self-control _not_ to thrust into his grip. Fuck, Ai has the worst timing in the universe.

“He’s not in your tent?”

That's one of the second-years—Nakagawa, Rin thinks. It’s hard determining who’s who while his heart’s pounding loud in his ears. Rin stays still, deciding it’ll rouse less suspicion if he doesn’t poke his head out of the tent just yet.

“N-No, I just came back from training with Yamazaki-senpai and…he’s gone.”

“Maybe he went to look for seashells again,” Iwashimizu suggests, voice drowsy and uninterested.

“But this late? And without telling anyone?” Nitori sounds like he’s on the verge of tears or organizing a search-and-rescue team. Or both.

“Couldn't have gone far if he did. I didn’t hear him pass by.” That’s Minami, calm as always. “What about you, Uozumi?”

Shit, did they all come out or something?

“I dunno, I was with _you_ the whole time,” Uozumi sputters, a touch too fast and defensive. “He’s probably zonked out and drooling beneath a pile of blankets right now and you just didn’t notice.”

There’s the sound of a flap opening—and for once, it’s not Rin’s tent—followed by one of Ai’s soft whines. “I checked again. He’s not there. You don’t think Momo-kun’s...?”

“Calm down, Nitori,” Minami interjects, “look, there’s his brother and Yamazaki-senpai. Maybe they know where he is.”

That’s it, Rin thinks. They’re finished. He can get away with laying low inside his tent as long as it’s just those second years out there. But with Sousuke and Seijuurou around, hiding isn’t much of an option.

“Where’s Matsuoka?”

Rin hears the panicked hitch in Momo’s breath, clear as day. Chances are, he’s imagining the same scenario now playing on loop in Rin’s panicked mind: Seijuurou pulling open the tent flap and exposing them as they are now: half-naked and doing more than just talking.

Yet, Momo’s hand remains where it is, squeezing his prick with gentle force. Rin can’t tell if that’s a conscious decision on his part or not.

“Rin is in his tent,” Sousuke says, “and Mikoshiba’s footprints…”

Momo’s grip tightens and Rin hisses tight through his teeth, his erection twitching. It should’ve dwindled by now but the heat of Momo’s hand and the cold fear of discovery are keeping him embarrassingly hard.

There’s no time to dress and convince those idiots out there _nothing’s happening_ and _that isn’t the smell of sex in the air_. Fuck.

“…they lead that way, towards the lodge. He probably went to take a leak. It’ll seem weird if he finds us all standing around waiting for him—we should all go back to bed.”

Sousuke’s not an idiot. He _has_ to know.

“But do you think Momo-kun will be okay out by himself?”

Seijuurou barks a laugh—and there’s no doubt that it’s him because only he has the kind of voice with an audible radius of several kilometers. “Don’t worry about him, Nitori! If I know Momotarou, he’s got his butt where it needs to be!”

Peering down at his palms and where they’re greedily latched onto, Rin feels himself flush. _Almost had it, Mikoshiba_ , he drones in his thoughts.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to rest now,” Ai murmurs.

“He’ll be fine,” Sousuke assures him, “but if you’re that worried, let’s go do another two laps. He should be back before then.”

“…alright.”

There’s a slight bustle of activity and noise; after short while, the camp’s restored to its previous silence. Once it sounds like the coast is clear, Momo sags against him. He's panting, heavy and quick, like he's letting out every single breath he’d been holding in. His hand is still wrapped around his dick and Rin’s convinced that it remained there out of stark, numbing fear and not because Momo wanted it to.

It’ll be a mistake to continue at this point. It’s because of stupid luck and Sousuke’s help they aren’t getting choked out by Seijuurou right now. They can’t risk it a second time.

“You should get dressed and leave, Momo,” Rin whispers into his hair.

He doesn’t stir.

“Momo.”

That’s as far as he gets before Momo leans up and kisses him full on the mouth. Gentle and warm, not in the least bit rough and biting like boys their age are notorious for. The palpable softness of it surprises Rin more than the kiss itself.

And suddenly the hand on his cock is a burning pressure again, only this time it’s nowhere near enough, to the point where Rin finds himself thrusting into it with demand. Momo meets his tempo, stroke to thrust, until Rin’s entire body teeters toward that edge of release. But it’s too slow of a build-up—Rin’s not sure he can stand it for much longer. And he’s just not sure he won’t scream…

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rin’s grateful for the cover the rolling sea waves are providing. It’s barely a thought when all his attention is on the boy partly draped over him and making all sorts of sounds. Rin can only hope the others are too busy sleeping and jerking themselves off to hear them.

They’re still kissing—if one dared to call the messy tangle of their tongues a kiss, anyway—when the first spasm hits. And it's not until he feels like he's burning behind his eyelids that Rin realizes _he's_ the one coming.

He clutches at Momo's bony arms and groans loud against his mouth as he comes in shuddering bursts, splattering over Momo’s hand and stomach. Once the last bit of sensation rolls through him, Rin collapses back onto his pillow, delightfully drained, feeling better than he has in _weeks_.

A short while later, Momo crawls out the backside of the tent and makes it back to his own before Ai and Sousuke return.

Rin still doesn’t know what the fuck _that_ was but he feels too damn good to care.

 

  
\--

 

 

The rest of the training camp flows on by without incident. Aside from Uozumi complaining about a lost bottle of lotion, there’s no mention of _that_ night, indirect or otherwise.

For his part, Momo continues with his award-winning performance. It doesn’t rouse any suspicions within the others so Rin doesn’t say anything directly to him.

Which is perfect, because Rin can’t begin to explain it to even himself why what happened did.

In the end, the team returns to Samezuka, their bodies tired and sore from Seijuurou’s intense drills and tan from the unforgiving sun. Rin, remembering Sousuke’s silent aid with whatever the hell that was with Momo, goes on the defense…which amounts to doing nothing but pouting, staying quiet and shooting the occasional and none-too-subtle look over his shoulder at the taller swimmer.

Sousuke ignores him, which is a way more effective counter than it has any right being.

After hours of this, when they’re trudging back into their dorm room, Rin finally gives in. “Alright, fine. What is it _now_ , Sousuke?”

He folds his arms, prepared for Sousuke to say something damning about his tryst with Momo.

“Nothing,” Sousuke hums, tossing his duffel onto the top bunk. “Just wondering how you feel now.”

Oh.

Rin feels his skin flush with embarrassment. And it’s at that moment he glances behind Sousuke beyond the opened door and spots two familiar figures passing by: a spry redhead with tanned skin and his long-suffering, pale-haired senior. They don’t stop for long, just enough to offer him a short wave before continuing on their merry way.

And maybe it’s Rin’s imagination at work, but he swears Momo’s grin is brighter than any he’s ever given him.

Rin then turns away from Sousuke so that his smirk isn’t seen. “Never better, Sousuke. Never better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for everything.


End file.
